


Everyone Lies

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Crossover, Drama, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-18
Updated: 2008-11-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: A man who is convinced that everyone lies finally has to believe in magic when he meets a man who must not tell them. Together the must work to save the one person Harry can't live without.HP/House crossover





	Everyone Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Harry, where are we?” Ron asked weakly, the sirens drowning out his voice for all but Harry who sat beside his stretcher to hear.  
  
  
“We’re in a Muggle ambulance on our way to the hospital,” Harry answered. He had told him all of this before, when he had called 911 and again when the ambulance had arrived. Ron’s mind was only one of the things Ron was losing.   
  
“Why? Muggle doctors can’t help me.”   
  
“We don’t know that. We know Healers don’t have an answer, maybe a Muggle will, maybe this Muggle will. He’s supposed to be the best.”   
  
“Harry,” Ron mouthed.   
  
Smoothing the loose ginger fringe from Ron’s eyes, Harry bent over and put his ear to Ron’s blood stained mouth.   
  
“I don’t want to die. Not like this.”   
  
“You’re not going to die. I will not let you. Do you believe me?”   
  
He looked Ron in the eyes, both of them glazed over; Ron’s with fever, Harry’s with unshed tears.   
  
“Yes. You’ve never lied. Never to me.”   
  
***   
  
Pacing back and forth, Harry was forcing himself to remain calm. Ron was in and out of consciousness and Harry tried to put on a tranquil façade for when Ron’s eyes were alert enough to follow Harry’s movements.   
  
There had been three doctors in already and each asked different questions.   
  
“What has he ingested?” the black man, who introduced himself as Dr. Foreman, asked.   
  
“A poison.”   
  
“Do you know what was in it?” A handsome man with a horrible English/Australian accent and amazing hair, Dr. Chase, asked.   
  
“Some of it.”   
  
“What do you remember?” the girl, Dr. Cameron, almost whispered.   
  
Harry thought of the best way to tell them about the poison that was being produced right in their country in a laboratory in their very state, at their most prestigious university. To give too much information would have the Muggle authorities messing with a situation that was already being handled by the Ministry. Still, they needed to know what was inside Ron.   
  
“It was a collection of small doses of plants: woodruff, lavender, nightshade, oleander, nicotine and wolfsbane,” he rattled off, as if it were no big deal, as if these sorts of things were digested every day.   
  
 He watched them blanch slightly before pulling themselves together and jumping into action. All but Dr. Cameron who looked as if she was about to cry as she assured Harry, “We are going to do everything we can.”   
  
He knew he hadn’t given them all the information they probably needed. He knew that if he were to tell them about the unicorn blood, the powdered dragon horn and the malaclaw venom he would be in a bed right beside Ron wrapped in a straight jacket. No, better to have them deal with the ingredients he did share and he would deal with the magical properties after. None of them were lethal, by themselves.   
  
***   
  
Harry stopped pacing as he looked down into the car park and saw the three doctors that had been in earlier waiting for a fourth man who had just pulled up on a motorcycle. Harry was shocked when the man got off the bike and pulled out a cane and began walking, ignoring the three doctors waiting. The man reminded him of Mad-Eye…wounded but full of life. When he pulled a pill bottle out of his hip and fluidly tipped its contents into his mouth, all while grousing at his colleagues, the likeliness to Moody intensified.   
  
Harry knew this was the man they had come for and he knew the doctors below were talking about Ron. Tempted to get out the special Extendable Ears made just for the Ministry, he decided by just reading their lips that he wasn’t going to understand what they were saying. He’d spent enough time in Muggle hospitals as a child due to Dudley’s “rough housing” to know that doctors had their own language—especially among themselves. He’d have to wait for the doctor to come to him.   
  
However, the man didn’t come that day. He sent his underlings in repeatedly to check Ron’s monitors, to change the bags of blood attached to Ron through a thick tube in his arm—each guaranteeing that what they were doing was helping. Meanwhile Ron was losing more color and weight. He was spending more time unconscious then not.   
  
The questions they asked got more and more personal. Harry, who had been well schooled in the ways of vague half-truths in dealing with Muggles gave the answers he thought they would need. When they came in with glazed eyes and befuddled expressions, he knew they had attempted to penetrate the protective charms he and Ron had placed on their apartment. He laughed at their failures before becoming irritated by their attempt. It was then he decided, if the doctor wasn’t going to come to see them, he’d go see the doctor.   
  
***   
  
“How’d you get in here?” the man asked as he stumbled into his locked office and saw Harry sitting in front of his desk.   
  
“Dr. House, I’m here to talk to you about my friend.”   
  
“That’s not what I asked. How did you get in here?”   
  
“That’s unimportant. My friend, Ronald Weasley is a patient of yours. What have the tests revealed?”   
  
“I’ll tell you when you tell me,” the doctor said.   
  
Harry shrugged. “Magic.”   
  
The man studied Harry for a minute then shrugged too. “Fine, you don’t want to tell me.”   
  
“Why do you assume that I’m not telling you the truth?” Harry asked.   
  
“Everyone lies.”   
  
“Is that why you tried to search our apartment?”   
  
The man studied him. “We tried. For some reason they kept forgetting what they were doing.”   
  
Harry hid his smile. “You might want to look into that, it doesn’t seem like a good habit for a doctor to have. But then again, there are a lot of ill-advised habits going on at this hospital, isn’t there?” He popped a Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean to mimic the doctor’s pill popping.   
  
Dr. House tried to smile, but it faltered.   
  
“What did you hope to find in our home?” Harry asked.   
  
The doctor looked up when he said “our,” Harry ignored it.   
  
“I wanted to know what you weren’t telling me.”   
  
“Right, because everyone lies,” Harry said.   
  
The doctor smirked.   
  
Until Harry slammed his tightened fist down on the man’s desk and his scar from all those years ago, _I must not tell lies,_ popped. “I can’t lie if you don’t ever ask my any questions. What exactly do you want to know?”   
  
“How did you get into my office?”   
  
Harry glared at him, wondering if he had been wrong about this man’s expertise.   
  
He got to his feet and made his way to the door before answering, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”   
  
***   
  
“Harry?” Ron sounded frantic. Harry rushed to him.   
  
“I’m here.”   
  
“Where are we?”   
  
“You’re in the hospital.”   
  
Ron looked confused. “St. Mungo’s?”   
  
Harry bowed his head; Ron was getting worse. He sat down next to the bed, took Ron’s hand and began to tell him—again about where they were.   
  
“You’re in a hospital in the states. In New Jersey.”   
  
Ron looked scared. “How? Why?”   
  
“We were on a mission. There was a rogue Death Eater. He had escaped to America. Had been working on mixing Muggle poisons and science with magic. Making some deadly combinations. We had tracked him to the capital and were following his movements. He had somehow Imperiused those in this country’s government and had been given a contract with unlimited funds to do ‘research.’ You were…were…” Harry faltered.   
  
“I was what?”   
  
“You were working undercover. As a Muggle. In his plant.”   
  
“I was? Why can’t I remember?”   
  
Harry swallowed. “You were…discovered. And poisoned.”   
  
“Oh,” Ron said in a long exhale. “So, I _am_ dying?”   
  
“NO!”   
  
“Tell me the truth, Harry. I can take it.”   
  
Harry sighed, _why does everyone always assume I’m lying?_   
  
He leaned down so that he was inches from Ron’s face, his eyes focused fiercely on Ron’s. “Listen to me Ronald Weasley and know that I _never_ lie to you; there is nowhere I won’t go, nothing I won’t do to get this poison out of you. Nothing.”   
  
Swallowing hard, Ron nodded. Harry took that last inch and let his lips rest lightly on Ron’s fevered forehead.   
  
***   
  
“Care for a drink?” Harry asked as Dr. House walked into his locked office the next morning. An hour earlier Ron had been taken for exploratory surgery to find out exactly why his internal bleeding hadn’t stopped. Harry was determined to get his own answers while he waited.   
  
“Don’t you think it’s a little early?” Dr. House said as he limped around the desk, nonplussed about the new intrusion to his personal space.   
  
Harry pulled out a small bottle. “Don’t worry; what I have won’t impair your ability to do your job. In fact, it might actually help.”   
  
The doctor’s eyes zipped from the bottle Harry held out and the phrase; _I must not tell lies_ scarred into it. “Okay, what is it? Am I allowed to know?”   
  
“Sure. It’s called Veritaserum.”   
  
“Truth serum?”   
  
“You think I’m lying to you, I _know_ you’re lying to me. Let’s see what this tells us.”   
  
Scratching the stubble on his chin, the doctor observed Harry who was pulling the stopper out of the bottle. “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”   
  
“ _Accio_ glass,” Harry said, ignoring the gasp from the other man. “I told you it was magic. And please, don’t waste our time trying to figure out where the strings and whistles are. I’ll tell you the truth, but it will be up to you to believe me.”   
  
Dr. House took the glass offered him, raised it, muttered “Cheers,” then brought it to his lips and tipped it in one fluid motion.   
  
Harry did like-ways. He was used to the affect of Veritaserum, the weight being lifted, the elation of freedom to say exactly what you are thinking without having to weigh it and measure it with its consequence. Yes, he was familiar with that feeling, but it was amusing to watch it take over the man opposite him. It was clear why he believed that _everyone_ lied; he’d obviously been dealing in lies his whole life.   
  
“How do you feel?” Harry asked.   
  
“Marvelous.”   
  
“What’s wrong with my friend?”   
  
“I don’t know.”   
  
Harry gasped. _That’s what you get for asking for the truth_ , he thought to himself.   
  
“But he’s more than your friend isn’t he?” Dr. House asked.   
  
“Does it matter?”   
  
“Not really. I’m just curious.”   
  
“What was your first clue?”   
  
“Your accent.”   
  
“Excuse me?” Harry asked, sitting up, sure that he hadn’t heard him right.   
  
“Your English aren’t you?”   
  
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Harry asked.   
  
“Aren’t all Englishmen a bit queer?”   
  
Harry’s mouth dropped open. “You’re suggesting that the whole of England are homosexual? You know that doesn’t make any sense, biologically?”   
  
The doctor shrugged. “It’s just a theory based on the English I’ve met.”   
  
Harry decided to let it go. It didn’t have anything to do with finding out what he wanted to know. He didn’t care if the man was a small-minded bigot, as long as he understood that Harry would tell him _anything_ he asked.   
  
“When you say you don’t know what is wrong with my fr… with Ron, what do you mean?”   
  
“If what you have told us is true, and he really did ingest all of those things, even in tiny amounts, then the mystery isn’t what is wrong with him, the true mystery is how he is still alive.” Harry felt the blood drain from his face and felt his limbs turn to gelatin. The doctor continued, “If there is anything we should know, that you hadn’t told us, because you didn’t think it was relevant, because you didn’t think we would believe. Tell me now.”   
  
Harry took a deep breath. “Have you ever loved a man?”   
  
“Yes,” the doctor answered without thought.   
  
“Would do anything for him?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Known that you are responsible for his suffering? Known that because he is stronger then you, and you are the only two people in the world who know this truth, he is the only one who knows your weakness, you let him put himself in harm’s way for you?”   
  
Dr. House gulped, and then nodded. “Yes.”   
  
“Then you know what I am going through, and you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to make him whole again.”   
  
“Tell me what happened.”   
  
Harry told him everything. Hiding nothing. Knowing that any statutes of secrecy he was breaking he would remedy with a quick memory charm when Ron was well. Knowing that finally, this man would believe what he was saying.   
  
“And this… Death Eater…Death Eater? Really? That’s what you call them?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Right, this person poisoned your boyfriend with both magic and what was that term? Muggle? Muggle science?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“And how is any of this your fault?”   
  
“It should have been me,” Harry whispered.   
  
Dr. House steepled his index fingers under his stubbled chin, “Ah, I see.”   
  
“See what?”   
  
“You have a bit of a hero complex, don’t you?”   
  
Harry choked on his own snort. “Surprisingly, you are not the first person to accuse me of that.”   
  
***   
  
“Do you trust me?”   
  
This time it was Dr. House asking Harry that. He had risen suddenly to his feet, collected his cane and made his speedy way to his door.   
  
Even though the Veritaserum had worn off, Harry didn’t need it. “Yes.”   
  
“Then come with me.”   
  
Harry rose and followed him, “Where are we going?”   
  
“To a séance, we are going to raise someone from the dead.”   
  
Harry stopped, horrified. “It’s not that kind of magic.”   
  
Dr. House turned and looked at him, his dazzling blue eyes twinkling and suddenly Harry thought of another comparison besides Mad-Eye Moody. What he said next only intensified the similarity to Albus Dumbledore and Harry almost lost consciousness. “It’s a figure of speech, boy. You think I don’t know about magic?”   
  
Swallowing hard, Harry regained the use of his legs and continued to follow Dr. House through corridor after corridor.   
  
  
They finally arrived at a door marked “Surgery” and Dr. House unceremoniously swung the door wide until it bounced and reverberated against the wall. “Stop what you are doing!”   
  
“House, what are you doing?” Dr. Foreman asked.   
  
Noticing the blood completely covering the doctor’s scrubs, the gelatin feeling returned to Harry. He leaned against the door to steady himself. There was blood everywhere. Ron’s blood.   
  
“Stitch him up. I know what’s wrong with him.”   
  
“What do you mean, you know what’s wrong with him?” Dr. Chase spat.   
  
“Haven’t you realized yet, while you three chop into our patients, I sit in my office finding the answer? How long have you been here? You haven’t seen the pattern yet?” They all stared at him. “Seriously, stitch him up. We need him back where he was.”   
  
He turned and started limping back down the hall, a befuddled and nauseas Harry following closely behind.   
  
“What are we doing?”   
  
“Can’t you feel it?” Dr. House said looking over his shoulder.   
  
“Feel what?”   
  
“Magic.”   
  
Harry was about to ask if the doctor was all right, if he might have had a bad side effect from the Veritaserum, but then he stopped and he _did_ feel it. How it happened Harry couldn’t guess, but there was a definite energy in the air. It seemed to be emanating from the doctor himself. It was then that Harry figured it out. The man who had never had anything to believe in had met a man who couldn’t lie to him. He was actually giddy; Harry could feel it.   
  
“So you really know how to save Ron?” Harry asked, hoping the doctor’s energy would be contagious.   
  
“Not really, more a hunch.”   
  
Harry’s heart fell and he stopped chasing after the limp man. “A hunch?” he hissed through his teeth.   
  
The doctor didn’t stop walking but said loud enough to be heard, “My hunches are usually right, besides, it’s his only option. So how about you just assume that I know what I’m doing.”   
  
“I see.” Harry mumbled.   
  
“See what?”   
  
“You have a bit of a God Complex don’t you?”   
  
The man barked, “Surprisingly, you are not the first person to accuse me of that.”   
  
***   
  
“What is going on here?” A dark haired women with impossibly high-heels asked in a nasally voice that screamed annoyance.   
  
Dr. House rolled his eyes, “Medicine is going on in here. Which is why you need to get out.”   
  
“Why did you pull this patient out of his surgery?”   
  
The doctor ignored her and instead called, “Cameron!”   
  
Dr. Cameron came in, saw the other woman and then looked at Dr. House, waiting for the explosion with resignation.   
  
“Did I tell you to watch the door? Did I tell you that under no circumstances to let busybody administrators with nothing to contribute and no useful things to say into this room? What part of that confused you?”   
  
Harry watched as the young doctor opened and closed her mouth as she looked from the administrator to Dr. House and back. “She’s the boss.”   
  
“She’s my boss,” Dr. House said. “And I’m your boss, so you answer to me.”   
  
“And you answer to me,” the nasally administrator woman spat.   
  
“In what planet?”   
  
Harry laughed. It was then that this woman noticed there were other people in the room. “Doctor,” she began again in a forced tone, “may I have a word with you outside?”   
  
“Sure, I got all the time in the world. It’s not like I was trying to save a life or anything. Maybe we could go for coffee.”   
  
“Now.”   
  
Harry watched them walk out the glass doors and watched the woman with waving, erratic hands display his displeasure at some such rule that Dr. House had broken. Then he spoke and at first she looked skeptical, but Harry watched as her face changed, like she was hearing something she didn’t think she’d ever hear. Finally, she nodded her head and walked away. Dr. Cameron stood next to Dr. House with her mouth open. The doctor ignored her and opened the door back to Ron’s room.   
  
“…no one. Not until we come out.”   
  
“What _are_ we doing?” Harry asked.   
  
“It was magic and Muggle science that got him the way it is and I think we need to combine the two to bring him back. I have the Muggle side; I need you to do the magic part. Can you do it?”   
  
“Yes. Anything.”   
  
They both approached Ron’s bed. His pale skin seemed to blend into the bedding around him and as the doctor pulled back his sheets Harry sucked in air through his teeth. Ribs that used to be well concealed were now poking against his skin. The scars along his arms were highlighted as the bandages and tubes were drawing Harry’s attention. A large bandage wrapped along his torso where they had stitched him up after his surgery.   
  
Taking a syringe off a tray, Dr. House brought it to Ron’s arm and finding a vein, effortlessly broke Ron’s skin and plunged its contents into his bloodstream. The monitor on his heart rate instantly began increasing their beeps.   
  
Meanwhile, Harry had taken out his wand and closed his eyes, trying desperately to feel in the air just what was required of him.   
  
“The bacteria I’ve injected in him will begin to fight with the toxins. I need you to fight from the outside to bring them to the surface.”   
  
“Okay.” Harry said. He began walking around the bed, keeping his eyes on Ron and nothing else. After the first hour of chanting and pacing he noticed that the doctor was sitting in a corner watching him. Ron’s heartbeat kept increasing in speed and after another hour Harry watched as Ron’s skin began forming a slick green sheen of sweaty bile.   
  
Fluttering weakly, Ron opened his eyes. It took him a moment to focus. Harry held his breath—the chant dying on his lips—as he waited.   
  
“Harry.”   
  
Harry conjured cool water and a washcloth and began bathing Ron to free him of the expelled poison. He was relieved to see that when the poisonous excretions were wiped gently away, Ron’s skin under it had some of its natural color and freckles returned to it.   
  
“What happened?” Ron asked.   
  
“You’re in the hospital,” Harry answered, again.   
  
“Duh. I sorta figured that out. I mean what _just_ happened?”   
  
“You were poisoned.”   
  
“By McIntyre right? He discovered me. I know all of this, you already told me.” Ron said, sounding slightly irritated.   
  
It wasn’t until Harry looked up to find Dr. House that he realized the haze he was seeing through were from his tears fogging up his glasses. “He’s back.”   
  
The doctor rose to his feet. “Dry your eyes Nancy boy. No need to get all weepy.”   
  
Harry laughed hard as he wiped at his wet face. “Fuck off.”   
  
Ron watched them confused.   
  
“Continue the bath and then I think you both need some rest,” the doctor said, limping out of the room and turning off all but the light over the bed.   
  
“Is that my doctor?” Ron asked.   
  
“Yeah. He was brilliant.”   
  
“Doesn’t he remind you a bit of Snape?”   
  
Harry laughed, “A bit.”   
  
***   
  
Ron remained in the hospital for another two days although he was completely well the very next day. No one believed that he had healed and insisted on doing even more tests. Ron was jumpy to get out and Harry was a little anxious too, but Dr. House was just amused by all the fuss.   
  
Dr. House only came into his patient’s room one time while they were there. Harry contemplated oblivating him, but thought against it. He wanted the doctor to remember that feeling of finally being told the truth about something. Besides, even if he were to ever tell the story, no one would believe him anyway.   
  
Harry wanted to sweep Ron away, but they insisted—some sort of law—that Ron had to leave the hospital in a wheelchair. Ron grumbled but Harry really was the one bitching. He really wanted to walk Ron out of the hospital and the minute they were free Disapparate back to their apartment and then…well yeah…there were many things he wanted to do.   
  
Rolling Ron down the corridors to the elevator and then through the lobby, Harry really thought he was not going to see Dr. House again before he left. He was actually a bit disappointed about it. Right before they got to the exit, they finally saw him greeting another man in a doctor’s lab coat and a baby face who had just walked in.   
  
Harry overheard the beginnings of the conversation as he got closer.   
  
“’Ello Govnah, fancy a cuppa?” Dr. House said in a god-awful attempt at an English accent.   
  
The baby-faced doctor looked confused but Harry smiled to himself. He approached the two doctors, stuck his hand out to Dr. House and as he was shaking it and saying his thanks he slipped a small bottle to the doctor.   
  
“What did he give you?” the other doctor asked.   
  
The same time Ron asked, “What did you just give him?”   
  
“Magic,” Dr. House answered.   
  
“Luck,” Harry answered. 


End file.
